


Loosen Up

by MarchofBirds



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Swap, Fluff, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), My continuing obsession with Padawan braids, No underage, Oh my god so many feelings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-07-20 14:59:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16139666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarchofBirds/pseuds/MarchofBirds
Summary: Every youngling in the Temple, secretly or not-so-secretly, dreamed of being Anakin Skywalker’s Padawan. That he’d gone and chosen an angry little stray with one foot on a shuttle out of the Order surprised everyone— and Obi-Wan most of all. So, if he had a bit of a chip on his shoulder, who could blame him?Or: Anakin reminds Obi-Wan that he’s never too old for a little guidance from his Master





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are so few age swap AUs in the Obikin fandom so I figured like, ey be the change you want to see in the world

 

Obi-Wan worried at his braid as he walked down the corridor toward the apartment he shared with his Master. Master Windu had brought up the trials in conversation _ever-so-subtly_ , knowing Obi-Wan would pick up on it. It was the third time a member of the council had mentioned them to him in as many months. And that was to say nothing of his own Master who kept giving him knowing smiles every time anyone brought the topic up. Obi-Wan didn’t get a reputation for being the cleverest senior Padawan in the Temple for nothing, and it didn’t take his attuned senses to pick up the hints they were dropping.

Obi-Wan was nearly twenty four; he knew the trials had to be around the corner. The thought of it made a knot of anticipation and dread grow in his gut. He didn’t feel ready, though at this point he doubted he ever would. The Knights and Masters alike told him he was, all commented on how much he’d improved since his Master had taken him on. But Obi-Wan knew sympathy when he heard it. The fact of the matter was that if he wasn’t ready soon, he never would be— and the council knew that.

Obi-Wan supposed they were right in a way, he had improved in the last few years. But that wasn’t saying much; there’s only one way to go when you start at the bottom. And one foot on the shuttle to Agricorps was about as close to the bottom as it got. If his Master hadn’t had such a soft spot for angry strays he wouldn’t even be here— and he knew he should’ve let all that go years ago. But having one of the youngest Masters to take on an apprentice in a millennia, and the famed Chosen One no less, had left a rather large chip on his shoulder.

His Master had only been a Knight for a little over two years when the council granted him permission to take on Obi-Wan— and reluctantly at that. The council seemed to revel in criticizing Anakin and his…nontraditional approach to, well, everything. But even the strictest of Masters couldn’t deny Anakin’s talent or effectiveness.

Obi-Wan still found it hard to believe some days that out of everyone, Anakin had chosen him to become his apprentice. Although every Knight was respected and it was undeniably an honor to be chosen at all, every youngling, secretly or not-so-secretly, dreamed of being Anakin Skywalker’s Padawan. That he’d gone and chosen an unruly cast-out on his way out of the Temple surprised everyone— and Obi-Wan most of all.

It wasn’t even his status that made Anakin remarkable, Obi-Wan quickly found. He was just as hot-headed and impulsive as rumored, it had to be said. But he was kind and warm in a way no one else in the Temple seemed to be. Obi-Wan supposed it could be attributed to his upbringing, as unprecedented as the man himself. More than even that though, Anakin was…magnetic. He glowed in and out of the Force and absolutely _everyone_ could see it.

Obi-Wan felt that it was fair to say that his Master cast a large shadow. And as much as he admired him, was amazed by him, was grateful to him—it was a lot to live up to.

 

He sighed; Anakin would sense right away how distressed he was. He always did. It always felt like an accusation to his ears; Obi-Wan knew Anakin didn’t _mean_ it that way but he felt like a failure every time his emotions overwhelmed him enough to spill out into their bond.

At the last second he turned back, heading off toward the Room of a Thousand Fountains instead, resolving to release his anxiety into the Force before facing his Master. Anakin had never been a fan of meditation himself, nor had he bothered trying to impart any love for it onto his apprentice. Luckily for Obi-Wan’s peace of mind, he’d made a habit of it as a youngling and had found it remarkably healing. Usually. 

Over the past few weeks, he’d found the practice less and less helpful, his connection with the Force more tenuous than it’d been in years. It seemed to be a vicious cycle; the longer he went without properly meditating, the more frustrated he felt; the more frustrated he felt, the more difficult it was to meditate. Serenity, he supposed, was not something that could be forced. Still, no one got anywhere without trying.

 

It was far after dark when Obi-Wan finally gave up and made his way back to his quarters, feeling no less balanced than he was when he began. He knew within the first half hour that he wasn’t going to make any headway as far as his inner turmoil was concerned— his main goal had quickly morphed into hoping Anakin had gone to sleep by the time he returned. However, when he felt a tug of concern from the other end of their bond he knew he was only putting off the inevitable. Any further procrastination would just cause his Master to worry.

Their reputations would have one believe that Obi-Wan was the rule-abiding worrier to Anakin’s laidback independence. But the truth was that Anakin…doted on him. There was really no other way to describe it. He had assumed at first that his Master thought him incapable of handling himself, but after years by his side, he’d come to believe that that was simply Anakin’s way. That he fussed over him because he cared. The notion warmed Obi-Wan more than he thought the Code would probably appreciate— nonetheless, he’d take what he could get.

Obi-Wan’s senses were filled with warmth as soon as the door to his quarters slid open. The earthy smell of spiced tea permeated the room; it was his one of his favorites, and one he knew Anakin absolutely hated. Despite his remaining distress, he smiled, preparing himself for an evening of coddling. He tried not to be too excited about it.

“Master?” He called out, venturing further into the apartment.

“Kitchen,” Anakin answered, sounding distracted. Obi-Wan followed the warm smells and the sound of his voice.

The kitchen was a mess. No, that wasn’t fair. It was filled with the evidence of his Master’s work. Nearly every surface was covered with dirty dishes or at the very least in need of a good wipe-down. His many talents aside, the older Knight had never seemed to master the art of cleaning up as he went. In the middle of it all was a pot Anakin was stirring with a level of attention Obi-Wan wasn’t sure it deserved. 

“What’s this?” He asked, blinking dumbly at the state of the kitchen.

“You forget to eat when you’re stressed,” Anakin smiled, setting down the stirring spoon. “Here, sit down.” He ushered him towards their little dining table and pushed a steaming cup of tea into his hands that he’d seemingly produced out of nowhere. “Dinner was ready earlier, but it got cold. Should be about reheated by now though,” Anakin said, thankfully not sounding at all bothered by his Padawan’s lateness.

He was right then about Anakin being in full-on coddling mode. Obi-Wan suddenly wondered if this was what it felt like to have a wife waiting at home after a long day at work. The thought was so bizarre he had to fight a bubble of semi-hysterical laughter as he imagined what his Master would make of the sentiment. Then everything Anakin had said clicked into place.

For the food to have gone cold he would’ve had to have finished it hours ago. Meaning he must have started cooking early in the afternoon— before Obi-Wan had even gone to meditate, rendering the entire exercise pointelss. Of _course_ he’d felt his distress right away. He groaned under his breath, sure that Anakin had picked up on that too.

For all of his considerable admiration, even Obi-Wan sometimes forgot how strong in the Force his Master was, and how attuned he always seemed to be to Obi-Wan specifically. As ever, he couldn’t decide whether to feel cared-for or intruded-upon.

“So, you’re hungry right?” Anakin asked then, reappearing suddenly.

“Uhh I—” his stomach growled then, almost comically loud. “Yes,” he flushed pink, hoping he somehow hadn’t heard it, sure that he had.

“Good choice! Stay there, drink your tea— I’ll get you a bowl.” Even after spending over a decade with the man, Obi-Wan still found himself a bit overwhelmed with the attention and never quite knew what to say. Instead he sipped his tea in silence, surprised to find it strong and unsweetened; Anakin had actually made it almost just as he would’ve made it himself.

This all of course mostly just served to make Obi-Wan feel all the more foolish for avoiding him in the first place. At least, he consoled himself, Anakin seemed to enjoy caring for him. Before Obi-Wan could stew in his embarrassment for too long, Anakin had returned carrying two bowls, and suddenly all the hours he’d gone without eating caught up to him.

“You haven’t eaten either?” He asked, a bit surprised that he’d waited.

“Nah, I know how much you hate it when you’re the only one eating,” Anakin smiled in that enigmatic way that always made Obi-Wan’s stomach flip.

“Oh, I, thank you,” he stumbled over his words but Anakin just waved a hand dismissively, gesturing for him to dig in.

Anakin wasn’t nearly as talented a cook as he was a Jedi but it hardly mattered to Obi-Wan who’s tastes ran as simple as they came, and after going most of the day without food, it was more than appreciated.

 

“I couldn’t help noticing,” Anakin said without preamble most of the way through the meal. “You still feel awfully tense.”

Obi-Wan’s throat tightened on the bite he was in the middle of swallowing. “Well I…” he took a long drink of water to buy himself a few moments. He really didn’t want to have to break it all down for him. His insecurities, doubts. Luckily, it seemed Anakin wasn’t really looking for an answer.

“And I was thinking—how would you like to meditate with me?”

“You want to… _meditate_?” Obi-Wan asked, unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice. His Master hadn’t asked him to meditate in, well, a long time to be sure. He also wasn’t sure how much good it would do either of them. Meditating had been a terrible struggle for him as of late and Anakin was many things ranging from maddening to inspiring, but _calming_ wasn’t one of them.

“Not the kind of meditation you’re used to—it’ll help, trust me,” he said as if he’d picked up on each and every one of Obi-Wan’s doubts. Force, knowing him he probably had. Obi-Wan didn’t respond, just raised an eyebrow waiting for Anakin to continue.

“Call it a sort of…guided meditation,” he said, a strange glint in his eye. Obi-Wan knew all about guided meditation; it was used to help younglings reach a meditative state before they’d learned to commune with the Force on their own. Did his Master really think him so inept? “Just trust me. You _do_ trust me, don’t you?” Anakin asked, tilting his head to the side, an expression that would be described as a pout were it being worn by anyone other than a venerated Jedi Knight.

“You know I do.” Anakin knew exactly how to get him to do just about anything and they both knew it.

“Then go get your meditation mat. I’ll take care of the kitchen.” His level of enthusiasm only served to make Obi-Wan more skeptical but he did as he was asked nonetheless, retrieving their mats from the closet and spreading them out on the living room floor. 

 

As he waited for Anakin, Obi-Wan sat on his mat in the customary position and tried to center his thoughts. He took a few deep breaths in an attempt to release his doubt over the entire exercise into the Force.

“I didn’t say we’d be needing _my_ mat,” Anakin said, reemerging from the other room.

“Then wh—”

“Scoot forward,” he instructed, circling around to stand behind him. Obi-Wan obeyed, though not without a confused glance up at his Master. Instead of taking his place on his own mat in front of him, Anakin sat cross-legged behind him in the space Obi-Wan had vacated.

They weren’t quite touching, but the unexpected proximity had Obi-Wan’s heart hammering nonetheless. “Just breathe; forget I’m even here,” Anakin spoke softly, no need to raise his voice with how close they were sitting.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and let it out, tried to follow the order. Even as strained as it’d been lately, Obi-Wan’s connection with the Force was incredibly sensitive, picking up on even the slightest signatures. And his Master’s was about as blindingly bright as it came; ignoring his presence wasn’t a task he was sure he was up to.

“Okay, forget that,” Anakin said, as if Obi-Wan had spoken his doubts aloud. “Relax your shields.”

Obi-Wan froze at that. He hadn’t dropped his shields around another Force-sensitive in ages, least of all his Master. If Anakin could pick up on his stress now, he didn’t want to contemplate what he’d see if he let him in _more_. All of his frustrations, his fear, doubts—and worse even than all of that, his messy mutinous _feelings_.

“You know why you haven’t been able to commune with the Force properly,” Anakin spoke when Obi-Wan made no effort to comply with his request. “You’ve been shutting yourself off, fighting it, not letting it—or anyone—in.”

He sounded so serene then that Obi-Wan suddenly felt the urge to scream in frustration. What would he know about it? If Anakin knew how inadequate he felt, how hard he fought to keep his composure he wouldn’t see him in the same way anymore. He’d look at him like all the other Masters had before—

“Stop that,” Anakin said, his voice sharp enough to cut through Obi-Wan’s spiraling thoughts but still warm. “Breathe; I’m here.” And suddenly he was, _right there_ , his chest pressed against Obi-Wan’s back, legs bracketing him on either side. He tucked his arms underneath Obi-Wan’s, his hands coming up to rest against his skittering heart. If his Master thought that that was any way to calm him down, he was sorely mistaken.

“Do you think I’ve never doubted myself? Do you think I don’t still?” He spoke softly into his ear, the vibrations from his chest passing through Obi-Wan’s body both pleasant and distracting.

“You do?” Obi-Wan asked, voice coming out only slightly above a whisper.

“At times.”

“But you’re...” Obi-Wan struggled for an adequate word— _fearless, capable, amazing_ , “you,” he finished weakly.

“That I am,” Anakin laughed. “And _what_ I am is just as flawed as you or anyone else.”

“Then how do you—”

“Padawan, a Jedi doesn’t let himself be ruled by shame any more than he lets himself be ruled by anger. They both come from the same place: fear.”

Sometimes Obi-Wan forgot that his Master wasn’t just strong and powerful, but also deceptively wise.

“But _how_ Master?” He asked again, trying to keep the petulant whine out of his voice.

“By not keeping everything to myself. Shame grows in the dark, Obi-Wan. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Relax your shields; let me show you.” His breath was warm against Obi-Wan’s ear and he sounded so sure.

If there was anyone who wouldn’t judge him, it was Anakin. His Master had been a steady presence in his life for over a decade and no matter what he found, he’d be there still. Obi-Wan nodded and with a shuddering breath, dropped his shields.

The effect was instantaneous. As if someone had pulled a set of heavy curtains open, Obi-Wan was flooded with light and warmth. His connection with the Force had dulled at such a slow rate, he’d hardly noticed it until he’d begun to feel half-blinded. But now, he could feel _everything_ again. More than that, he could feel Anakin, his presence all around him yet not oppressive. Obi-Wan knew Anakin was feeling him just as strongly. He wasn’t invasive but there were undoubtedly things his Master was seeing, feeling that he’d rather have hidden away.

But Obi-Wan knew he was right; shame withered in the light, and right now he was being showered in it. However many of his secrets Anakin was seeing, there was no change in the warm, accepting presence wrapping its way around Obi-Wan’s own.

 

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, though he suspected it might’ve been some time, as his muscles were stiff by the time he finally found his way back to himself. Still though, it was hard to complain when he felt warmed from the inside out, as if he’d spent hours sunbathing after a long, dark winter. His eyes fluttered open, and he wondered when he’d even closed them.

“Welcome back,” Anakin said, voice a gentle laugh. It was then Obi-Wan realized that his Master was still pressed against his back, his chin resting on his shoulder like he was more than content to remain there.

Anakin’s legs easily bracketed him on either side, arms still wrapped around him almost lazily, until his larger frame all but engulfed his own. Obi-Wan had never before felt their height difference so acutely; nor had he ever felt so _comforted_ by it. It had been easy to forget that this exercise had a physical component to it when he was lost in mediation, now though…Force, but this had been a bad idea after all.

“That was a rather unorthodox form of mediation Master,” Obi-Wan laughed tensely, for want of something to say more than anything else.

“It helped didn’t it? Sometimes the unorthodox way is better,” his voice sounded unmistakably husky then, and Obi-Wan was only half-sure he wasn’t imagining it.

“Oh, yeah? L-like when,” despite his best efforts, he couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice.

Anakin turned his head until his lips were almost brushing the skin underneath Obi-Wan’s ear, the air from his soft laughter tickling his skin. “Oh _Padawan_ ,” his tone, and the feel of his lips moving against his skin sent a shiver through Obi-Wan’s body. “Did you think I hadn’t noticed the way you look at me? Feel about me?”

Obi-Wan’s heart was thudding in his ears. Oh, no. He was right—this had been a _terrible_ idea and he was an idiot for going along with it. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “M-Master?”

“Relax, Obi-Wan,” he said soothingly, like hadn’t just shattered his whole worldview. “It’s okay—more than okay.” He tilted his head that last centimeter to press his lips into the curve of his jaw. Those full lips he’d been dreaming about for the _longest_ time against his skin. He never thought anything would come of the ridiculous crush he should’ve gotten over ages ago but—

“Master th-this is completely inappropriate,” Obi-Wan stuttered even as he tipped his head to the side to give Anakin better access.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked seriously, pulling back a bit.

Obi-Wan swallowed audibly, taking no more than a heartbeat to answer, “No. Please don’t- don’t stop.” Obi-Wan could feel the answering grin when his Master leaned back in to kiss his neck.

“Mm are you sure? I wouldn’t want to offend your sense of propriety,” Anakin didn’t bother to move away as he spoke, or even stop kissing him long enough to get more than a word or two out at a time. As always, he had Obi-Wan right where he wanted him—right where they _both_ wanted him, truth be told.

Obi-Wan didn’t answer, couldn’t. Instead he just whined pitifully as Anakin wound his braid around a loose fist, tugging it until he could reach more of his apprentice’s sensitive throat. Obi-Wan couldn’t think, but he couldn’t seem to _stop_ thinking either. This was more than he’d ever dreamed possible, what if he _was_ dreaming? Kark, what would the council think if they—

Anakin suddenly bit down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, thankfully low enough that it’d be covered by his robes. Obi-Wan let out a breathy whine. The stinging pain was enough to pull him free of his spiraling thoughts.

“That’s better. Remember what I said; let it all go.” His Master always knew how to pull his strings; it shouldn’t be surprising that this would be no exception. “C’mere.” Suddenly Anakin was in front of him and his arms were wrapped around him as he scooped his smaller frame up and off of the floor. Obi-Wan was unable to suppress the jolt of surprise but didn’t fight or even question him, instead choosing to latch onto Anakin’s neck and lean into the embrace.

Anakin carried him down the hall into his bedroom, kissing at his cheek and whispering into his ear all the while. Obi-Wan felt himself flush at the excessive fawning, and might’ve even asked Anakin to tone it down if he hadn’t been enjoying it quite so much.

 

The (many, many) times Obi-Wan had imagined his Master taking him, he’d always pictured Anakin being rough, wild as he was with nearly all other aspects of life. When he was pulled into his arms and carried down the hall, he’d expected his Master to throw him down on the bed, maybe crawl over him predatorily. He did none of that, and was in fact nothing like Obi-Wan had ever supposed he’d be.

Instead, Anakin sat down himself, taking Obi-Wan with him. He leaned his back against the headboard and pulled Obi-Wan against his chest, almost like they’d been sitting before. He ran his fingers through his short hair like he was in no hurry at all. “You’re going to be the best little Jedi in the Order,” he whispered, leaving an open-mouthed kiss under his ear.

“Don’t— don’t tease me about that,” Obi-Wan willed his voice to come out stern and sharp but it wilted under pressure. “Please.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin pulled back then, a hand on his chin gently forcing him to meet his gaze. He looked serious then, as he so rarely did with no playful lilt to his voice. “I mean it. Didn’t you feel it before? How proud I am of you?”

“I—”Obi-Wan was mortified to find himself suddenly unable to speak around the lump in his throat, eyes stinging at the corners. He remembered the warm feeling of his Master’s acceptance washing over him though, and instead of cringing away he turned around in his lap until they were facing each other.

Shaking, though he knew he wouldn’t be rejected, Obi-Wan cupped Anakin’s cheek. He had the bizarre urge to ask permission then, but fought it. There was no need. He licked his lips, hesitating for just a moment. Thankfully, Anakin picked up the slack. With one hand at the base of his spine and the other the on the back of his head, he held him steady while he leaned in. As their lips met finally, Obi-Wan stopped breathing for an instant. How was it that they’d gone so long without ever having done this before? _What a waste_ , he thought distantly. But then it was over and he’d barely appreciated it at all. He frowned at the thought but Anakin just laughed, shaking his head.

“And people call me impatient; there’s plenty of time for more. Just the first of many—assuming that’s what you want?”

Obi-Wan replied by surging forward again, pulling him into a much deeper kiss than the first. Anakin let him take the lead for once, only shifting to wrap both arms around Obi-Wan’s middle to keep him where he wanted to be. His presence was a steady comfort, so calm and in-control. As much as Obi-Wan appreciated it, he wanted to see him as desperate and flustered as he felt. Wanted to be able to take his Master apart and put him back together the way Anakin had always been able to do to him.

Obi-Wan employed all of his (relatively limited) skills to do just that, nipping and sucking at Anakin’s bottom lip, slipping his tongue in when the older man gasped. Anakin pulled back after a minute, panting.

“Slow down Padawan,” he smiled indulgently, arms still holding Obi-Wan firmly in place.

“Don’t wanna,” he dipped down to mouth at Anakin’s throat, pulling at the collars of his robes trying to get at any skin he could reach. His cards were all on the table; Anakin knew he wanted him _badly_. What was the point in pretending otherwise?

“Alright then,” and just like that Anakin used the arms around his waist to hoist him up and out of his lap. Before he was quite sure what had happened, Obi-Wan was on his back with his Master straddling his hips. He met Anakin’s eyes, sparkling with something between amusement and arousal as Obi-Wan just stared up at him, mouth slightly agape.

In one smooth motion, Anakin had removed his belt and tunic, haphazardly throwing the garments somewhere unseen. Obi-Wan had, of course, seen his Master in various states of undress and this was by no means the most skin he’d exposed in front of him. Never in such an intimate context though, and the sudden expanse of golden skin looming over him left his mouth dry, and his cock achingly hard in his leggings.

“Am I gonna be the only one getting undressed?” Anakin asked, amused smirk flickering across his lips.

“Oh!” Obi-Wan was spurned into action then, pulling at his belt. For all of his haste, his fingers felt clumsy and useless, fumbling at the clasps keeping his robes shut. He groaned in frustration, tugging at the fabric until Anakin’s hands batted his away. Obi-Wan propped himself up on his elbows to give his Master room to work, allowing him to maneuver his smaller form, slipping his robes and tunic off his shoulders until he too was left in only his leggings.

“Better?” Anakin asked, voice rich and deep. Obi-Wan could do little more than nod dumbly as the older man stretched out on top of him, his weight pinning him to the mattress. They were only four or five inches apart in height but in that moment, with Anakin covering him, he felt every single one of them.

“My little apprentice.” Anakin sounded so satisfied, whispering against his lips, then kissing him breathless before he could complain about the comment. It seemed his Master was finally ready to take the lead, and Obi-Wan found himself eager at the prospect, too overwhelmed to do much more than lie back and take whatever he was given. The hard press of Anakin’s cock against his thigh alone was enough to leave him weak and near desperate. There would be time for more later, he decided, next time, once the edge was taken off.

For the time being he just closed his eyes and breathed, trying to memorize every sensation. Anakin worked his way down slowly, nipping and sucking little bruises on sensitive skin usually covered by his robes. By the time he was hovering over Obi-Wan’s hipbones, the younger man was shivering with want, arching into every touch.

Anakin’s fingers hooked the waistband of his leggings and he paused. “Can I?” He looked up at him, biting his lip in question.

“Yes, yes please,” Obi-Wan nodded, lifting his hips up off the mattress encouragingly. Grinning, Anakin tugged at the fabric. He had to fight them off when they got stuck at Obi-Wan’s feet, and the process as a whole wasn’t what anyone would call graceful, but it got the job done. And then Obi-Wan was blessedly bare, erection standing at attention, almost painfully hard, precum beading at the tip.

Anakin slid both hands underneath the small of his back, lifting his hips until the back of Obi-Wan’s knees rested against his shoulders. He wrapped his lips around the head of his cock, swiping his tongue over the tip once, twice, before pulling away. Obi-Wan nearly sobbed at the loss of contact, craving release already. 

His Master though, seemed perfectly content to mouth at his inner thigh, palms moving down to cup his ass and hold him in place. “You’re so good Obi,” he positively crooned into his skin.

“You know I don’t like it when you call me that, _Ani_ ,” Obi-Wan complained. His Master hated being called by the childish nickname almost as much as Obi-Wan did his own.

Anakin growled at that, sucking a deep bruise into his thigh. “Do you have to be so stubborn even now?” His hands were kneading the muscles of Obi-Wan’s ass, never getting any closer to where he really wanted to be touched.

“Mmhm‘s why you love me,” he mumbled only half-coherently, arching his spine to try and get those fingers just a little closer and— he realized what he’d just said and blanched. “I— I mean…” oh kark why did he have to be so—

“You’re right,” Anakin cut through his sputtering. Obi-Wan looked down at him, wide-eyed, heart hammering. “That’s exactly why I love you.” He kissed his skin again, softly this time, with none of the trademark mischievousness he’d grown to associate with his Master. “Now, didn’t I tell you to relax?”

Anakin held out his hand, summoning a small bottle from somewhere Obi-Wan hadn’t seen and couldn’t have cared less about. There was the barely-audible sound of a cap being snapped open, the wet squelch as he squeezed a dollop of the clear slippery liquid into his palm. Then Anakin’s fingers were on him, where he’d been angling for, finally rubbing at his rim. But he didn’t press in as Obi-Wan had hoped he would. Instead he just massaged the tender skin, pulling his opening apart with his thumbs. He was so, so gentle— _too_ gentle in fact.

Obi-Wan whined in protest but Anakin just shushed him, “Loosen up, Padawan.” He smiled at his own ridiculous double entendre, before licking a stripe from his tailbone up to his sac once, then again when it startled a yelp out of Obi-Wan. His tongue entered him then, pressing between his thumbs that were still working him open.

And it was so soft and nice and— and resolutely not enough. “Master please,” he panted, trying his hardest to press into the touch, push his fingers in further.

“Not until you relax. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“You never worry about hurting me when you’re kicking my ass at sabre practice,” he complained, knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere but unable to stop himself.

“That’s different and you know it,” Anakin laughed, the rumble of it traveling up Obi-Wan’s spine wonderfully, and terribly. Too much and not nearly enough all at once. He moaned again. “Shush, you know how to get what you want. _Relax_.” Anakin kissed his skin, sending a soothing wave over him through their bond.

“Yes Master,” he breathed, finally letting all his tension go, his muscles turning loose and pliable at last. Then, just as he promised, Anakin pressed the first finger in, all the way up to the knuckle. Obi-Wan fought the instinct to tighten up again, instead reaching down to pull at his Master’s always-unruly curls.

“Good boy,” the praise was warm and satisfied, and he was seemingly unbothered by the tugging at his scalp. “Isn’t that better?” The finger inside of Obi-Wan curled, brushing the edge of his prostate.

“Y-yes,” his voice was nearly a sob. As soon as he wasn’t quite so overwhelmed his body was immediately demanding more and he willed himself to be patient.

“Master please—”

“Shh, you never have to beg me. I’ll give you what you need.”

Obi-Wan relaxed at that, because it was true wasn’t it? Anakin always did give him exactly what he needed. Taking care of his Padawan was just one of the many things his Master excelled at. Still though, an eternity seemed to pass between one second and the next just waiting for him to make a move. Just before the ache for more became too much, a second finger joined the first. He gripped Anakin’s hair tighter as his fingers began scissoring inside of him. The stretch was tender, barely even a sting. But he’d been waiting for so long, in that moment it felt like _everything_. Despite his earlier resolution, Obi-Wan wanted to beg for more, but found he was beyond words. He was putty beneath his Master’s hands and Anakin still seemed to be in no hurry to move things along.

“We don’t need to rush, Padawan,” Anakin said, still frustratingly calm and Obi-Wan was not convinced. “Stay with me, here now.” A particularly well-aimed thrust of his fingers had him reconsidering his position however.

“Master!” He whined, finally in pure pleasure rather than askance, back arching off the bed of its own volition. Anakin didn’t reply with anything other than a wet kiss to the inside of his thigh, but the satisfaction radiating off of him spoke for itself. For once, Obi-Wan couldn’t blame him.

Before he’d quite gotten used to the two long, dexterous fingers inside of him, Anakin added a third. And _then_ he felt the stretch. There was no pain, Anakin had been too careful for that, but the fullness was more than he’d experienced in a long time. And anyway, anything, anyone he’d had before seemed lightyears away now. Anakin waited another few moments before he began pumping his fingers in and out, slowly then faster.

Just when Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how much more he could take, how much higher he could go, his cock, largely ignored up till that point, was engulfed in the wet heat of Anakin’s mouth. Obi-Wan made the mistake of looking down then, and caught the sight of his Master’s full red lips wrapped around the base of his dick, eyes fluttered shut like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. He had to look away, take a centering breath to stop himself from finishing right then.

With Anakin bobbing up and down, cheeks hollowed out, tongue swirling over the tip at every third pass, the stretch of his fingers filling him just enough, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer regardless. He was so _filled_ with Anakin, in both body and in the Force, he didn’t even hear the noises coming out of his own mouth. If he could have, Obi-Wan might’ve been embarrassed by how desperate he sounded. Long breathy moans and unintelligible whines that may have been his Master’s name, or may have been pure nonsense. Anakin couldn’t be sure, but cherished them nonetheless.

Finally, one crystal clear thought broke through the haze. “M-Master I’m c—” he tried to push him off but Anakin wasn’t budging. Obi-Wan couldn’t hold back any longer, finishing hot and fast down his Master’s throat. Even with the warning, Anakin couldn’t swallow fast enough, cum and spit escaping the seal of his lips and dribbling down his chin, despite his best efforts.  

He continued to mouth at his softening cock until Obi-Wan was just skirting the line between pleasure and pain before finally pulling off, leaving him with one last kiss right below his bellybutton. Obi-Wan was silent for a long minute, save for the heavy breathing he couldn’t quite get under control just yet. He felt awfully exhausted, he mused distantly, for someone who’d spent half the evening on his back.

 

“Do you want me to do…something—anything?” He asked when he could finally speak again. He was beyond worrying about how overeager he might sound. They both knew he would do anything his Master asked, especially now. For the first time, that realization didn’t bother him.

“Mm, don’t worry about me,” Anakin smiled at him, looking relaxed and utterly satiated despite not having been touched.

“But I want to,” Obi-Wan pouted, before surrendering to a long sleepy yawn.

“Later,” Anakin laughed, crawling up the bed to lie next to him.

“I’m holding you to that,” he said seriously as he could manage while tucking himself into Anakin’s embrace.

“Promise,” he said, pressing a kiss into his sweat-damp hair.

Just before Obi-Wan dropped off into sleep Anakin asked, “Don’t you feel better now?”

“Yes,” he answered honestly, too tired to do anything else even if he’d wanted to.

“See? Sometimes it’s best to be a little unorthodox.” Finally at ease with both himself and his Master for the first time in much longer than he’d realized, Obi-Wan couldn’t find it in himself to argue.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The completely necessary sequel that was definitely not just an excuse to write more porn.

 

 

“Master?” Obi-Wan called out, knocking on the already-open door to Anakin’s room. It was dimly lit but for the bright white desk lamp illuminating his workspace, but even still Obi-Wan could tell every surface was cluttered with tools and spare bits of machinery.

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore Obi-Wan,” he had to strain to hear the older man’s response, as he kept his back to him while he spoke.

“Right, my apologies…Anakin,” the name still felt awkward and unfamiliar on his tongue without a title to proceed it.

“It’s alright,” he replied with just as little feeling as before and Obi-Wan tried not to sigh. Anakin had been this way, distant and unresponsive, since his Knighting and he didn’t know what to make of it. Even as closed off from their bond as his now-former Master had been in the last few weeks, Obi-Wan could tell that he wasn’t  _angry_. He knew what that felt like, hot and biting in its intensity, and there was no mistaking it. No, this was something much colder, but no less all-consuming for it.

Three days after having his braid cut the council had sent Obi-Wan on his first solo mission as a Knight and he had hoped that by the time he returned, Anakin would be back to his usual self. It had been days since then however, and his mood only seemed to have gone further downhill.

“Did you need something?” Anakin asked, voice maybe just a touch more gentle.

“No, I was just going to ask if you wanted something to eat…you’ve been in here awhile.” That was an understatement. Anakin had hardly left his room all day, choosing instead to stand crouched over his worktable tinkering with machinery for hours on end the way he only did when he had something he really wanted to avoid thinking about. Obi-Wan had lived with the man for the better part of his life and was well acquainted with his preferred method of meditation.

 “I’m fine thanks,” he said, throwing a stiff, unconvincing smile over his shoulder.

“Please Ma— Anakin? I got takeaway,” he said a little pleadingly, hoping he wouldn’t have to drag Anakin out of the room.

“...alright,” Anakin sighed after a moment’s deliberation, setting down his tools to follow Obi-Wan out of the room.

Obi-Wan smiled to himself as he led the way. He had gotten food delivered from one of Anakin’s favorite places this side of Coruscant in the hopes of luring him out of his room long enough to have a halfway decent conversation. 

Anakin sat down at the table where Obi-Wan had already set out various containers of takeaway. Obi-Wan sat across from him, trying to find some sort of conversation-starter as they both picked at the food in front of them. It had never been this way in the past between he and his Master. They had their difficulties like any other Master-Padawan pair, but even through the years when they’d argue almost every day, it’d never been so…uncomfortable.

 

In the weeks since Obi-Wan’s Knighting Anakin had hardly spoken to him, let alone  _touched_  him. In light of everything that’d happened between them, Obi-Wan had hoped their relationship would only continue to grow stronger with his ascension in rank. Anakin, however, seemed determined to keep his distance—though for what reason Obi-Wan had no idea. 

“How is it?” He asked finally, gesturing to the food his former Master had taken about three bites of. 

“Good, thank you,” Anakin offered a tired smile, eyes flashing up to meet his for a half-second before dropping back to his plate. 

“Master what’s wrong?” Obi-Wan asked in a huff; Anakin had always responded best to the direct approach anyway. 

“What? Nothing—” 

“Come  _on_. I've tried to be patient but you won’t talk to me; you don’t come near me. Did I do something?” His voice stayed steady but his patience and confidence were both waning in the face of his Master’s continued reluctance to communicate. 

“ _No_ , no Obi-Wan you didn’t do anything,” Anakin said emphatically, finally really looking across the table at him. 

“Then what is it?” He asked imploringly, trying to convey all his feelings through his eyes alone since their bond was still so strained. Anakin was silent for a long moment, chewing his lip and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in that moment besides sitting across from his former apprentice. Just when Obi-Wan thought he wasn’t going to get an answer, Anakin finally spoke.

“I guess with your Knighting and all, I just…wasn’t ready for things to change?” It was undoubtedly presented as a question, but Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what to say; he was the one looking for answers after all.

“But you  _told_  me I was ready for the trials.” 

“You  _were_ —you’re a great Knight. It’s not that.“ Anakin lapsed back into silence once again and Obi-Wan wanted to demand _Well what is it then_? but forced himself to be patient. His Master may have been more in touch with his emotions than most Jedi but even he had trouble putting them into words sometimes.  

“Between us…I wasn’t ready for things to change between us,” Anakin seemed uncharacteristically embarrassed then, face obviously heated.

“Things don’t have to change between us,” Obi-Wan insisted with all the gentleness he could muster. What he really wanted to say was  _you’re the only one who’s changed!_ But that would be counterproductive if he really wanted to get to the heart of the matter. 

“Of course they do; they already have,” Anakin sighed, sounding defeated. “You’re a Knight now. The council’s already sent you on a solo mission and it’ll only keep going from there. The missions will get longer and more dangerous. The council will expect you to move into your own quarters, sever our bond—move on from your time as a Padawan.” 

“Well, then…” Obi-Wan frowned in frustration, searching for the words to express just how _wrong_ everything Anakin was saying was. “Kriff the council!” 

Anakin’s eyes widened in shock at his usually so mild-mannered former apprentice’s language but Obi-Wan didn’t leave him an opening to speak. 

“And kriff you too if you think any of that changes the way I feel,” he huffed, surprised at the sudden swell of anger rising within him. He stood from the table, needing to put distance between himself and this conversation. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go but  _stang_ if his Master couldn’t be the blindest idiot in the galaxy sometimes. 

“Obi-Wan wait,” Anakin’s hand shot out to grip his wrist as he passed by and he rose to stand beside him, using his greater height to all but tower over him. His eyes bore down into Obi-Wan’s own, as if he were waiting for him to say something but what, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure. “How is it…that you feel?”

Was he actually making him spell it out, after everything? “You know that I love you, you karking idiot,” Obi-Wan snapped, pulling his wrist free from Anakin’s grasp. He didn’t get far though before Anakin pulled him into a crushing embrace. 

“I’m sorry Obi-Wan,” his voice was muffled from where he had his face pressed into Obi-Wan’s hair. “I’ve been so stupid I’m sorry.” He peppered kisses against his temples and across his cheeks, holding him almost uncomfortably tight. 

Obi-Wan wanted to hold onto his anger but, as ever with his Master, he felt it melt away in favor of the warmth rising up in his chest. “Yes you have been,” he said, putting the dying breath of irritation his anger had become into his voice before giving in and returning the embrace. 

“I love you too, I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.” Anakin was practically nuzzling the side of his head then, his taller form draped over Obi-Wan’s like a cape.

“It’s alright,” he sighed, tilting his head back enough to catch his gaze. “But cut it out alright? I want to go back to how we were before. Even if it is a little different now.”

“Of course,” Anakin grinned, bright and dazzling, before pulling him into a bruising kiss. And for all that it may have been too forceful, it was still like coming home. Obi-Wan’s fists twisted in the fabric of Anakin’s robes as he held on as if for dear life.

It didn’t last long enough, but that was alright. Anakin was still smiling and Obi-Wan could feel the laughter bubbling up in him through the vibrations under his fingertips. His ridiculous impulsive Master was at peace again with their relationship and he himself couldn’t have been more relieved. Anakin kissed him again two, three more times and he could feel the smile against his lips.

 

“Master, why didn’t you just tell me what had you so upset?” Obi-Wan asked when they’d parted long enough for him to get the words out. 

“I felt guilty for not being happier for you,” he shrugged helplessly. “It just felt like you wouldn’t be…mine anymore. But then I felt guilty for being possessive and well…” he looked down at him anxiously, like he was honestly worried Obi-Wan could possibly still be angry with him.

Obi-Wan shook his head in (mostly) mock exasperation, extricating himself from Anakin’s arms. The older man looked stricken for all of two seconds before he realized he was only being led down the hall.

“My room—I’ve seen the state yours is in and I am not setting foot in there,” Obi-Wan tossed over his shoulder as he pushed his way through the door into his bedroom.

Despite the promise he’d made himself the first time they’d gotten together, Obi-Wan still hadn’t managed to take the lead even once. Anakin was just always so keen to shower him with affection and after what felt like a lifetime of longing for more of his Master’s attention, it never failed to overwhelm him. But that, he decided, was about to change.

He didn’t bother sliding the door shut, too focused on pushing Anakin toward the bed, his touch laced with just a hint of the Force. When the backs of his knees met the mattress, Anakin dropped down onto it, only just catching himself before he fell on the flat of his back. Obi-Wan didn’t give him any time to recover though, straddling his hips and winding his arms around Anakin’s neck.

Anakin’s eyes widened at his uncharacteristic assertiveness but when Obi-Wan nosed along his jawline, he tipped his head back willingly, giving him easy access to his throat. Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate to take full advantage of the opportunity, covering his skin in kisses and bite marks alike. Anakin groaned and bucked his hips up but, no. He wasn’t taking control this time.

He growled into Anakin’s skin and pushed him onto his back, holding him down by his shoulders. Obi-Wan kissed him until he stopped trying to gain the upper hand and finally stilled beneath him pliantly. When Obi-Wan broke away Anakin’s eyes were still closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly like he’d just run a race.

“Look at me,” Obi-Wan demanded, breathless but firm. His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at him dazedly. “Even though I’m a Knight now, even though we’ll be on separate missions, even if you take another apprentice— you’re my Master.  _Mine._ ” He punctuated his words with another kiss, biting sharply at Anakin’s bottom lip.

“Force, I love you,” Anakin breathed when they broke apart, wrapping both arms around Obi-Wan and pulling him down against his chest. It seemed to be just the right thing to say; their signatures were intertwined, in tune with one another as they hadn’t been since his Knighting.

Anakin flipped them then, covering Obi-Wan’s body with his own. He nipped at the younger man’s earlobes and sucked bruises into his neck that he’d no doubt have to heal before anyone else saw him. Obi-Wan’s back arched up off the bed, his cock, already half-hard, pressing into Anakin’s thigh. His breath hitched and his mind started to cloud over the way it always did with Anakin. But, no—not this time, he resolutely reminded himself.

Obi-Wan pushed at his chest to put a little space between them. The older man went easily, propping himself up on his elbows and looking down at him curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Not wrong,” Obi-Wan shook his head, taking a moment to breathe. “It’s just my turn.”

“What do you—” Anakin started but Obi-Wan was already moving, pushing his Master back down until he could settle himself between his thighs. He unclasped the belt holding Anakin’s tunic closed in a motion so graceful he impressed himself.

“Oh,” Anakin breathed in wonder as Obi-Wan leaned in to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his torso. When he got to the waistband of his leggings Obi-Wan glanced up. His Master had his head thrown back, his eyes closed. He might almost appear relaxed but for the trembling Obi-Wan could feel underneath his fingers. He bit at Anakin’s hip bone, just hard enough to leave an impression of his teeth behind and the older man sucked in a breath, hands grasping at the bedspread.

“Obi-Wan _please_ ,” he whined, looking down at him pleadingly. A wave of warm, sweet satisfaction washed over him. So  _this_  was what it felt like to take his Master apart. He knew right away it was going to prove to be an addiction.

“Yes Master,” he grinned up at him a little wickedly, tugging his leggings down just far enough for his cock to spring free. Anakin made a pretty picture like that: spread out helplessly underneath him, skin flushed, lips bitten red, cock at full hardness, precum beading at the tip as he waited to be touched. But Obi-Wan didn’t take long to admire the view; it’d been to long since they’d been together and he was suffering nearly as much as his Master. There’d be time to torture him later, he thought, when they weren’t quite so desperate and he could afford to take the scenic route.

Now however, he gripped the base of Anakin’s shaft, wrapped his lips around the head, and sucked. Obi-Wan quickly built up a rhythm, taking in as much as he could manage before moving back to just the tip, working a hand up and down the base in time with the bobbing of his head.

 

 

Anakin, for his part, had been rendered completely powerless. It took all of his self-control not to thrust his hips up or bring a hand down to grip the back of Obi-Wan’s head. And the effort it took to hold back was driving him _almost_ as wild as the hot mouth around his prick.

Just when he was sure he would cum like that, Obi-Wan pulled off with one last teasing lick. He caged Anakin in, one knee on either side of his hips, and kissed him long and deep. Obi-Wan's mouth held traces of  _Anakin_ , which he chased hungrily. His hands, finally allowed to move again, danced up the younger man’s sides. But then Obi-Wan sat up, back straight and mouth too far out of reach, leaving Anakin panting and desperate.

“I want you to fuck me,” he said in a commanding tone, pressing a bottle of lube into Anakin’s hand that he must’ve retrieved while Anakin was distracted with kissing him.

“You, I—” Anakin’s heart stuttered. They’d done that before, of course they had, but never had Obi-Wan been so  _demanding_ about it.

“Well, do I have to prepare myself or are you going to?” Obi-Wan asked, eyes glinting with amusement.

“No, I’ll do it,” Anakin snapped to attention at his former apprentice’s teasing tone. Kriff, he felt like a Padawan himself suddenly, wildly sensitive and inexperienced. It seemed Obi-Wan could tell, if the twist of his lips was any indication. Part of Anakin wanted to take control then, pull Obi-Wan across his lap and  _show_  him who his Master was. But. He couldn’t deny that he found this unexpected side of the other man exciting.

“Good,” Obi-Wan said, sounding satisfied. He removed himself from Anakin’s lap, standing just long enough to get undressed. Anakin followed suit, sliding his already-opened tunic off his shoulders and shimmying the rest of the way out of his leggings.

Anakin slid up the bed until he could lean against the headboard, and Obi-Wan took it for the invitation that it was, wasting no time in climbing back on top of him. Popping open the bottle he’d been given, Anakin warmed a dollop of lube in his palm. Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin’s neck, leaning down to kiss him. He widened his legs without having to be asked as Anakin’s organic hand snaked around to knead at his ass. The other he used to cradle Obi-Wan’s hip, holding him steady, though he hardly needed the help.

It didn’t take long for him to work in one finger, then two. Obi-Wan rocked himself up and down Anakin’s fingers, lips leaving his Master’s only to find a home along the line of his throat.

“Have— have you been doing this without me?” Anakin asked, noting with no small hint of perplexity the ease with which he was able to slip a third finger in alongside the other two.

“Got lonely,” Obi-Wan shrugged, twisting his hips to get a better angle. Anakin growled at the implication, his mechanical grip on Obi-Wan’s hip growing painfully tight. “Don’t worry Master,” he pressed a gentle kiss under Anakin’s ear. “I was alone—No one else touched me.”

Anakin relaxed at that, a little embarrassed at his reaction. But then Obi-Wan was kissing him again, hips pressing back into his fingers, and he couldn’t find the energy to care any longer. “Were you thinking about me? When you touched yourself,” he asked, suddenly desperately needing to know. 

“Yes, yes always—it’s always you,” Obi-Wan whined, eyes closed. He let out a bitten-off groan and Anakin could tell the he was getting desperate, almost to the point where he’d start begging. A wave of anticipation and arousal rose low in his middle at the thought; Obi-Wan was always so pretty when he begged. All he had to do was hit the right spot _one_ more time and—

But then Obi-Wan was pulling away, not completely, just enough to dislodge Anakin’s fingers. “What is it?” He panted, equal parts concerned and frustrated.

“I’m ready,” he grinned, taking the bottle of lube in hand and slicking up Anakin’s cock before he knew just what was happening. Anakin whimpered at the feel of Obi-Wan’s hands around him but it wasn’t more than a handful of seconds before he was asking, “Are you?”

“What? Oh, yeah—yes I’m ready,” Anakin stuttered out. He might’ve been embarrassed at how easily he’d become flustered and overwhelmed if he weren’t bordering on painfully aroused. Obi-Wan, however, seemed delighted by his reaction, only managing to wipe the self-satisfied smile off his face long enough to kiss Anakin breathless all over again.

Before Anakin could gain any measure of composure, Obi-Wan had sat up again. He gripped Anakin’s cock with one hand, the other flat on his chest to steady his balance as he lined himself up. Obi-Wan made eye contact with him then and by the expression on his face Anakin could swear he was drawing the moment out, torturing him just a little bit longer.

It seemed ages passed before Obi-Wan finally pressed down enough that he breached the first ring of muscle, tight heat enveloping the over-sensitized head of his prick. It was just a few scant inches, but after waiting so long it was almost too much. He was all but keening with the effort it took not to grip Obi-Wan’s hips and fuck up into him but he could be patient—could wait until Obi-Wan was ready. It wouldn’t, couldn’t, be long now.

Obi-Wan worked his way down, inch by inch, agonizingly slowly, until he was fully seated. Then, with the smallest groan of satisfaction, began to move. And just like that, Anakin couldn’t wait any longer. His grip tightened, hips snapping up,  _finally_  thrusting into Obi-Wan like he wanted. He planted his feet flat, intent on flipping their positions so he could fuck him into the mattress the way he’d been dying to—

But then his hips and hands were pushed down, pinned to the bed and utterly immobilized. He blinked up at Obi-Wan, confused for all of half a second.

“ _No_ ,” the younger man had fire in his eyes, face twisted into a determined frown. His hands hadn’t moved from where they’d been on Anakin’s chest, no, he was holding him down with the Force alone. And, kark, that really should not have been as hot as it was.

Obi-Wan was in complete control and it seemed he was set on taking his time, the movement of his hips slowing to a crawl as if to punish Anakin for his disobedience. Anakin just about sobbed when Obi-Wan stopped almost entirely, until he was just grinding his hips in slow circles. He made the mistake of opening his eyes, which he’d screwed shut at some point, to look up at his former Padawan.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he choked out. Obi-Wan had a sheen of sweat over his entire body, his pale skin a warm pink, eyes half closed but still so obviously dilated. He looked so pretty and Anakin couldn’t even  _move_.

“Language Master,” Obi-Wan laughed like he knew exactly what he was doing to him and, kriff, he probably did, the bastard.

“You know you deserve it,” he said as if Anakin had spoken his complaints out loud. And, well, Obi-Wan wasn’t  _wrong_. But that didn’t mean Anakin had to admit it.

Obi-Wan’s breath hitched and he let out a whine that was almost certainly involuntary as he found that spot that always made him vocal despite his best efforts. Apparently finding it to his liking, he did it again, and again, excruciatingly slowly. His hands clenched and unclenched against Anakin’s chest, nails scraping against the skin just shy of painful.

Anakin wanted to be more upset by the fact that Obi-Wan seemed intent on all but using him as a toy to get off, but. Force if he didn’t look good doing it. And even if it wasn’t happening at the speed he might’ve preferred, he couldn’t deny that it felt amazing regardless. Especially after the last few weeks of self-imposed abstinence.

So he took a deep breath, tried to find his center. Let Obi-Wan have his fun, he thought. He’d get him back next time—which was sure to be soon now that he wasn’t set on being such an idiot anymore. For now all he had to do was sit back and relax, enjoy the show. Once he stopped fighting himself, Anakin realized what a beautiful opportunity this was. How had he not let Obi-Wan take the lead before? Watching his usually so straight-laced apprentice let his inner fire out was something he could more than get used to.

Unfortunately for Anakin, even then Obi-Wan was terribly clever and caught onto him before he’d had much time to enjoy it. A flash of  _something_  passed over his expression before he started bouncing up and down on Anakin’s cock again. The change in speed surprised a long breathy keen out of Anakin and he would’ve thrust up into the tight heat if Obi-Wan weren't still pinning his hips down.

Years of hard training hadn’t left Obi-Wan short on stamina and Anakin knew he’d come before the younger man tired. Normally he might’ve viewed this as a disadvantage but given the circumstances he wasn’t above taking what he could get.  _There, right there,_  a growing sense of heat and anticipation unfurling low in his belly. Right as he reached the precipice, Obi-Wan stopped. Anakin looked up at him in disbelief and he  _was smiling._ He’d timed it perfectly the little—

Anakin opened his mouth to protest but before he could get a word out Obi-Wan passed two fingers through his parted lips. “ _No_ ,” was all he said, still wearing that strange sharp grin.

Unthinkingly, Anakin sucked, swirling his tongue over the pads of Obi-Wan’s fingers. This seemed to be the right call as a wave of warmth passed through their bond and Obi-Wan sped up again, though not nearly as fast as before.

“Good, Master, good,” the praise washed over Anakin, affectionate and a little rough. Was that really his Padawan’s voice? It sounded so thick and heady— so unlike the hesitant young man he’d come to know. Spurred on by the gentle encouragement, Anakin closed his eyes and sucked harder, his head bobbing almost in time with Obi-Wan’s thrusts.

Suddenly Obi-Wan had pulled his fingers free and was gripping Anakin’s jaw, firm and demanding. Unbidden, Anakin’s eyes snapped open, finding Obi-Wan’s sharp gaze immediately. 

“Mine,” Obi-Wan repeated, before finally, letting Anakin’s hips and hands free. It only took him a split second to acknowledge his freedom before he was gripping Obi-Wan’s hip in one hand, fucking up into him at a near bruising pace.

He wrapped his left hand around the younger man’s dick, which had been utterly untouched up till that point, achingly hard and dribbling precum onto Anakin’s stomach. He worked his fist up and down the shaft, thumbing over the head on every third or so upstroke.

Anakin tried, but couldn’t quite get the rhythm right to get his hand in time with his hips. But it didn’t matter. They were both so keyed up by that point, three or four more thrusts was all it took before he was spilling himself inside of Obi-Wan. He didn’t stop though until, with a hoarse groan, Obi-Wan came, coating both of them in his release. 

Obi-Wan just about collapsed then, only just missing the mess he’d made by inches as he rolled off of Anakin and onto the bed next to him. Anakin blindly reached for the first bit of spare fabric he laid his hand on, a discarded tunic belonging to one of them, wiping the spunk off the both of them before it could dry. Obi-Wan waited patiently until he was finished before curling up underneath his arm and wrapping both of his legs around one of Anakin’s. Sticky with sweat as they were, it was less than comfortable, cuddling that closely. But Obi-Wan was never more tactile than when in post-orgasmic bliss and it would take a stronger man than Anakin to complain.

 

They basked in each other’s presence for a long while, somewhere between sleeping and awake before Anakin finally spoke, waking Obi-Wan from the half-doze he’d fallen into “Did you mean what you said?” He asked softly. 

“Which part?” Obi-Wan asked, voice sleep-rough

“When you said kriff the council.”

“Oh, that. I was being dramatic,” he yawned blithely.

“Oh, right. That,” he cleared his throat, “that’s good.” Anakin didn’t sound quite convinced however, voice coming out gruffer than usual.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, and the name, he thought felt maybe just a bit less strange this time around.

“Mm?” His eyes were shut as if he were halfway toward sleep but Obi-Wan wasn’t fooled. Especially not now that their bond was back to its usual shining self.

“ _Anakin_ ,” he repeated, firmer this time, gripping the older man’s chin between his fingers so he was forced to look at him.

“Yeah?” Anakin blinked at him, expressive face showcasing all of his worries the way it always did.

“I know we won’t be able to see as much of each other as before—and I think that’s okay, maybe even healthy.” Anakin looked ready to either run or cry at that but Obi-Wan wasn’t finished. “But I meant it. If they try to force us sever our bond or make me move out in the name of the code, well,” he broke off then, the thought alone enough to get under his skin.

Anakin was still looking at him though, as if waiting for him to continue. He did so love it when Obi-Wan spelled out his feelings.

“We’ve sworn ourselves to the Order, I know that. But I—or at least part of me, belongs to you first.” He felt a wave of guilt wash over him even as he said it, the faces of the council members flashing through his mind’s eye. But then Anakin was squeezing him close with both arms, kissing his forehead and it was so, so hard to remember why he shouldn’t be allowed to feel this way.

“I—my—I mean, me too,” Anakin just about radiated happiness, a feeling Obi-Wan had sorely missed in the weeks they’d been separated. And Obi-Wan allowed himself to indulge in it a bit longer before sitting up, stretching his arms over his head and rolling his shoulders. “C’mon Master, get up,” he said, jabbing a finger into his ribs.

“Whyyyy??” He whined, batting Obi-Wan’s hand away.

“Because, you hardly ate any of the food I brought and you’d been cooped up in your room all day before that. So don’t even _try_ to tell me you aren’t starving.”

“Sleep now, food later,” he grumbled, still not opening his eyes. Anakin was forced to concede defeat however when his leggings, which had been discarded and subsequently forgotten, hit him right in the face. He sat up, pulling them away from his face so he could properly glare at Obi-Wan.

The younger man was too busy tugging his own leggings on to notice, seemingly unbothered by Anakin’s protests. “Don’t think I won’t pull those blankets off you next,” he said, expression curled into a deceptively warm smile.

“Ugh, _fine_ ,” Anakin rolled out of bed, coming to the very correct conclusion that the more he resisted, the longer it’d be until Obi-Wan let him get any sleep. And anyway he _was_ starving.

“You know,” he said, stepping into the leggings that had been thrown at him. “Half the time I get this uncanny feeling that you’re the Master and I’m your Padawan.”

“Funny, I was just thinking the exact same thing,” Obi-Wan laughed, taking his hand to lead him back to the kitchen where their food had long gone cold.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to say hello at my tumblr: http://marchofbirds.tumblr.com/


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